


Somewhere in Neverland

by calamitycate



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Human Disaster Mike Lawson, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamitycate/pseuds/calamitycate
Summary: Inspired by an incredible AU work in which Mike Lawson gets sent down to AA, where he meets Ginny Baker pre-Ginsanity. Many delightful hijinks and relationship entanglements ensue. This story got me in the feels so bad that I literally couldn't sleep without tying up some of the loose ends in my head. This little fic is my attempt at tying up those loose ends aloud.
Relationships: Ginny Baker & Mike Lawson, Ginny Baker/Mike Lawson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	1. Moonlight and Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To have fate without Destiny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309890) by [mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity). 



> This is my very first fic ever, so blanket apology for literally everything wrong with it. I haven't written any kind of fiction since high school, which means this is really rough. Especially if you read *any* of the amazing Pitch fic authors - they are incredibly talented, and I'm just a monkey over here banging on a keyboard. 
> 
> No beta - all the mistakes are 100% mine. 
> 
> Context: Mike and Ginny met when he was sent down to AA as punishment for bad behavior. They became battery-mates (duh) and best friends, whether they admitted it or not. Story is pre-show, so Mike was still married to Rachel when they met but discovered her affair during the course of his time in AA. He abruptly left without saying goodbye to Ginny (coward), but they had a contentious reunion when she was called up to participate in a charity series at Petco. Things got dramatic and weird at a fancy party after their first game of the series, and this picks up AFTER Mike tries to bail on the party, and Ginny basically forces her way into his car. She had just shut Trevor down (in front of Mike), and confessed to never having gone to a beach before. 
> 
> The fic that inspired this drabble is so good, y'all - go read it right now! You will not be disappointed. By the inspiration fic, I make no guarantees about this one.

“Oh my God, old man. Are we going to a beach in Canada? Is there a beach reserved for the elderly in the North Pole?”

Mike rolls his eyes and checks the driver’s screen. Three more minutes .

“Har har, Rook. One of these days you won’t have the benefit of all this experience on your side. You’ll end up on a regular beach, mobbed with paparazzi. And then there’ll be pictures splashed all across the tabloids - Ginny Baker: Too Drunk to Wear Shoes? Ginny Baker In The Wild. Ginny Baker Stumbles Through The Weekend. You’re just lucky I’m here now and willing to grace you with the wealth of my - ”

Ginny cuts him off.

“Endless monologues????”

Utterly unaffected by the jab, Mike’s expression somehow becomes even more smug.

“I’m glad you recognize what a blessing they are. That shows real growth, Rook.”

Mike finds a way to very loudly turn and face her as he winks and continues.

“There may be hope for you yet.”

Before she can get in a witty retort, the car slows to a stop. Mike tips their driver, then looks pointedly at Ginny, who happens to be sitting on the non-traffic-facing side of the car.

“Baker, get outta the car. There are no servants here to open the princess’s door, so you’re gonna have to slum it and open it yourself.”

Rather than respond, Ginny opens her door, scoots halfway out, gives Mike a hefty push back into the car, slips out the door and closes it behind her. She turns around and meets Mike’s glare with a shit-eating grin. He won’t let his face betray it, but he’s incapable of being annoyed when that dimple’s in full force. 

Mike exits the car wordlessly, intent on maintaining his air of annoyance. He then trudges toward a set of stairs that presumably lead to the beach. 

“You need help with those stairs, old man? Taking it kinda slow, even for you.”

Mike throws a sideways glare at her and continues his descent. He doesn’t notice the genuine concern on her face, doesn’t know that something in her stomach twists when she sees him wince every other step. 

**_She_ ** doesn’t know it, but he’s only trudging down these stairs for her. Because she said she’d never been to the beach before, and he thinks she deserves the world.

“Seriously, grandpa. I could push you down the stairs, too. That might be faster and less painful for you.”

Her eyes light up with glee, but he doesn’t see it, because he’s focusing on grumbling to himself and generally embracing misery. 

“Oooh - what about a piggy back ride?!”

It’s out of her mouth before she really thinks about it. When she does, she’s grateful for the biting wind that hides the flush that otherwise would have creeped all the way up to her ears. Especially since Mike is apparently having a coughing fit in response.

“I know today was just your first almost big league game, Rook, but we’ve got rules about sexual harassment around here. Don’t be saying stuff like that to the other guys, or you’ll find yourself in trouble with HR.”

Ginny guffaws.

“The Padres don’t have HR.”

Mike raises his eyebrows.

“That’s exactly what I thought, too. Until Salvi filed a complaint against me.”

“He did not.”

“He did. Scout’s Honor.”

“You were never a boy scout.”

“Oh, and you would know, since you followed every detail of my life while staring at my poster hanging above your bed?”

Ginny wants to kick him, but they’re walking aimlessly (she thinks) along the beach, and she’s a little worried she’ll actually hurt him if she does.

“You have GOT to let that go already!”

“I’ll let it go when you admit it. Embrace your truth, Baker! There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Who wouldn’t want all this hanging above their bed?”

Mike walks along the beach, just beyond wave reach. In the past, he would have left his shoes on the beach like he owned the place (he does). But tonight, he avoids the surf, because he doesn’t want Ginny to see him struggle through tugging off his shoes.

“Listen, there may have been a time when that was true.  **_May have._ ** But that time was long before you let that mangy animal eat your face.”

They’ve come up to a sort of ledge at the foot of the cliff. It’s about counter-height, which makes it perfect for two athletically inclined people to hop onto and sit a spell. As Mike situates himself on the ledge, he volleys back his usual refrain, “You  **_love_ ** the beard.”

Ginny doesn’t sit, opting to lean back against the ledge, a respectable distance from her captain. 

He’s not wrong about the beard though. Now that Ginny has more personal knowledge of it, she does love it. Loves the way it brushed her face when he put his mouth on that spot right under her jaw. Wonders what it’d feel like on the soft skin of her belly, wonders… how fast she can shut down these thoughts. 

As far as she knows, he’s just broken up over Rachel. She can still feel the heartbreak in his voice from that day on the hill in San Antonio. She can see the shame and hurt in his eyes, feel the sting of broken glass on her calves.

Mike is a good man, but he’s fucked up seven ways to Sunday over Rachel. Maybe he and Ginny had a real moment at some point. Maybe they were friends, maybe they were something else. But losing the love of his life has got to overshadow all that, whatever  **_it_ ** is. Or was. 

Mike’s been in love with Rachel since Ginny was in middle school. Middle school. She can’t compete with that. Not as the annoying little duckling. But maybe she can still be his friend. 

Middle school Ginny would sure be thrilled about that. So why does the thought of it leave her feeling hollow?

“Hey Rook, this is the part where you say you hate the beard.”

He snaps his fingers on alternating hands as he continues, “Call and response - that’s how this thing works. Man, how will you ever survive without me guiding your every step?”

Because she’s going back, and they won’t see each other anymore. And Rachel will realize she fucked up. They’ll get back together, Ginny will go back to AA, and the world will be right again. 

Mike shifts slightly, bumping his burly leg into her bare bicep, prodding her to respond. She wants to lean into him, wants to feel the comfort she felt on that last plane ride with him. 

But today is just a day trip to Disney - she’s not moving in. She can have this moment, pretending like things are the same. But his words remind her that things are not the same, and in fact they may never have been whatever she thought they were in the first place.

Maybe Mike suspected Rachel was cheating all along, and their entire “friendship” only happened because he was lonely and she was there. 

So Ginny does not lean into Mike’s touch, though she desperately wants to. Instead she notes every prick of pain as that thing tightens in her chest, a vice grip around her heart, radiating out to every part of her body. 

She takes a step to the left, creating a modicum of space between them. Then she wraps her arms around her midsection as if she can hold herself and her emotions in check if she just squeezes tight enough.

“Listen, I know they didn’t have this technology back in the olden days when you were my age, but anything I need to know, I can Google.”

Mike chuckles lightly then goes out of his way to bridge the gap between them so he can bump back into her arm. 

“There she is. Glad to have you back, Rook. I was a little worried you caught a chill that got into your brain or something.”

“Can you **_be_** any older? Only people in nursing homes talk about catching any kind of chill.”

Mike reaches one meaty hand out, placing it gruffly on her arm. Which is freezing. 

“Jesus, Baker. Were you gonna tell me you’re cold before or after you freeze to death?”

Ginny was actually grateful for the biting ocean air. It served as a layer of defense against the traitorous feelings she shouldn’t have for a man who probably only saw her as a work project - once he sorted out his feelings for Rachel, anyway.

But that didn’t stop her from accepting the jacket he draped across her shoulders. It was warm, like him, and smelled woodsy and clean. She stops herself from burying her face in the lapels and taking a deep, restoring breath. 

She hates the way her body feels safe and protected in the heat of his jacket. Still, she doesn’t have to let  **_him_ ** know all that.

Ginny doesn’t realize she’s gone still and silent again until Mike prompts.

“Trevor?”

Ginny furrows her brow glancing sideways at Mike.

“Huh?”

‘I can see the wheels turning in your head, Rook. You’re thinking real hard about something, and I doubt it’s trigonometry. So, Davis? You wishing you’d decked him? Or kissed him?”

Mike is proud of himself for the casual way he asks. He knows how  **_he_ ** feels, pretty much got that sorted out before Ginny turned up in San Diego. But she loved Trevor (God, he would give anything for her to look at him the way she looked at Davis), and that poor bastard did a pretty good impression of a penitent, utterly smitten man tonight. 

So Mike still isn’t sure she won’t go back to him. The thought of her with anyone else makes him feel like someone sucked all the air out of the room. But that lying bastard? The thought of her, back with that piece of shit, makes his blood boil and his chest feel like it’s collapsing all at once. 

He fucking had her. That dumbass had Ginny Baker. And he thought he was hot enough shit to justify lying to her face. Mike would never get over his hatred of that rat bastard.

Ginny raises her eyebrows as she exhales loudly.

“If I were going to lean either way on that, it’d definitely be in the direction of punching him in his lying, stupid face. But I wasn’t thinking about him…”

Ginny turns her head away from the waves so she can just see Mike’s face in her periphery.

“Why  **_did_ ** you punch David, Mike? ‘Cause Andy seems to think you’d never punch a guy over Rachel. At least not since you found out.”

Mike raises his eyebrows and wipes one paw across his face. It’d be easy to blame his actions on the obvious. He decked the guy who slept with his wife. Who could blame him?

But David’s observations made it pretty clear that wasn’t it. At least it wasn’t the whole story. 

“I’m not entirely sure, Rook. I looked out that doorway, saw him leering at you - and something snapped.”

Ginny stops herself from correcting the leering comment. David wasn’t leering. At least, she didn’t think he was, but who knew what Mike saw from his perspective?

Mike looks down at his legs and smiles as he sees Ginny’s dress peeking out from under his suit jacket. He turns slightly so he can see her better before continuing.

“Now that I think about it, I can remember one distinct thought: not her.”

Ginny’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotion, but confusion finally takes over. 

“What do you mean not me?”

“I mean you’re my person. That guy already took my wife, and he probably did me a favor there, right? But you? You’re… you matter so much to me, Gin.”

Her stomach flips when he uses her first name, and something dangerously like hope takes residence in her heart. She tells herself to shut it down, though. He means she matters as his legacy, as a mentee. He doesn’t mean what she means. Otherwise why would he have left her like that? He might never have spoken to her again if not for this charity game.

“Sure, you hum terribly and annoy the shit outta me with your little orphan annie rants. But it would kill me.  **_It would kill me_ ** if someone took you away from me. And I’d have to kill  **_him_ ** if it were him. He can  **_have_ ** Rachel. But not you.”

Ginny laughs bitterly, letting her carefully controlled emotions seep out momentarily. Mike doesn’t miss the edge in her laughter.

“Well, good thing neither of you has to worry about that since I’ll be back down to AA in a week where you’ll never hear from me again. You’ll both just have to live without my terrible humming and mind-numbing feminista rants - hah!”

Mike jumps down from his perch with surprising agility for a guy who complains about his knees every second of the day. He stands directly in front of her in a wide stance, arms crossed with a bear-faced grimace. 

“You cutting me out then?”

Ginny can see the hard set of his jaw, even in the moonlight. 

Her mouth is set in a thin line, the rest of her face blank. She’s wishing it were that easy. That she could cut him out like a picture in a magazine and be rid of him. 

Because no matter how gruff or stupid he is, she can’t undo how close they got (to her). She can’t undo the fifty times she’s imagined what would have happened if they had kissed somewhere else. 

But she also can’t ignore the certainty with which she knows it didn’t mean anything to him, that maybe their “friendship” didn’t mean anything either. He’s just screwed up about Rachel. And he had obviously done that exact thing with an endless list of women. He was probably planning on doing it with Amelia before Oscar interrupted them. 

For Ginny, all that added up to was pain. She could pretend otherwise when he was here with her. But when life went back to normal, she knew it would hurt again. And it would be so much better if she could, just - cut him out. 

“I don’t need to cut you out, Mike. You’re gonna cut yourself out the minute I go back, and don’t pretend like you’re not. I don’t need you to sugarcoat it for me. This conversation doesn’t even happen if not for the series.”

Mike wrinkles his brow and forcefully chews his gum a few times.

“That right, Rook? You think you’re here (he points to the beach) just ‘cause you happened to be in town for the game?”

Ginny stares him down, eyes cold, expression unwaveringly hard. 

Mike takes a step into her space, runs his hands lightly up and down her arms. He’s basically a human furnace. So Ginny can feel the heat radiating from his body even as puffs of minty air ghost across her face. 

He doesn’t speak, just stares at her, questioningly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world that they’d be talking right now with or without the series. Which is so fucking wrong, she can’t handle it.

Ginny throws his hands off her arms and takes a step to the side, immediately missing the warmth of his big body. But she can’t have him touching her and fucking gaslighting her at the same time. 

She whirls around, resting one hip against the rock ledge, maintaining some distance between them while fixing him with an icy glare. 

“I must’ve missed all your calls and texts the past few months, then, huh? And the email where you told me how fun it’d be to play together again.”

Ginny exhales an acrid chuckle and takes a step back to match the step he’s taken toward her. 

“Maybe I was having an out of body experience and  **_imagined_ ** you treating me like a perfect goddamn stranger in the bullpen, huh?”

Her eyes flash dangerously, her heart rate climbs, and she lets the anger overwhelm her.

“And I guess it was a sign of lasting friendship when you literally ran away from me and only stopped because even you’re not dick enough to leave me alone with Trevor fucking Davis when I’m about to have it out with him.”

He’s stopped trying to close the distance between them now and stands facing her, hands on his hips. The moonlight illuminates the tension in his jaw and the hard set of his eyes, just as it highlights the fury on Ginny’s face. 

Then something breaks loose, her face relaxes, and she continues.

“Fuck.”

She’s looking at the ground, shaking her head slowly, chiding herself.

“I really thought I could be your friend tonight, you know? You’d say you were just screwed up about Rachel. I’d tell you it’s ok, water under the bridge.”

She looks up at him, and he realizes too late that the change he saw on her face was defeat. She’s stepping backwards away from him, because she’s done.

“But I can’t take you treating me like I fucking imagined you disappearing into the ether. Or pretending I would be here even if I hadn’t chased you down the street and forced my way into that car.”

The tightness in her chest is approaching panic attack levels, and she knows it won’t get better until she gets away from him, physically and mentally. 

“Thanks for taking me to the beach, old man. But you don’t need to babysit this annoying duckling anymore.”

She takes off his jacket, tosses it across the distance between them, then turns and walks away. He catches it entirely out of reflex.

“Rook - “

He’s trudging after her, picking up speed. He can’t let her walk away like this, but she’s so fast, and his knees are complaining. 

“Gin, wait, please?”

Something in his voice makes her pause long enough for him to reach her and get one bear paw on her arm. She doesn’t turn around though. So he walks in front of her.

“First, would you put the jacket back on? You can just keep it if you need to make a hasty getaway, but your lips are gonna turn blue if you walk all the way back like that.”

She silently accepts the jacket, but the anger and resolve are still firmly rooted on her face. She could trash the jacket in the hotel later. She sure as shit wasn’t keeping it.

“I’m sorry, Gin. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

He sees something flicker across her face. It’s surprise. He hadn’t apologized before, and she made up a hundred excuses for him, all of which lead to - he’s twisted up about Rachel and acting out like a broken-hearted teenager. Which includes making out with a “friend” for no other reason than “she was there.” And deluding himself into thinking he would have crossed the line with her, just to give the universe a reason for Rachel’s betrayal. 

She wasn’t expecting an apology, but she wanted one desperately.

“Sorry for what? There’s so much to choose from, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Mike raises his eyebrows and exhales forcefully.

“You got me there, Rook.”

If she weren’t looking at the ground, she’d see the regret tracking across his features.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you - “

His face and tone are pleading, but she doesn’t see it, because she’s intently studying his shoes.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I was punishing you. I wasn’t - I wasn’t punishing you. I was punishing  **_me_ ** . I shoulda thought about what that would do to you, but I’m a selfish bastard, and I thought you’d be better off without getting sucked into my garbage anyway. I’m sorry I hurt you, Gin.”

She still won’t look at him, because she feels raw, exposed… and just done. 

Mike takes a halting step toward her, and she doesn’t step back, so he keeps going. The cocky bastard walks right into her personal space and wraps her up. 

She’s too tired to fight, and he’s so warm. So she just burrows her face into his shoulder and accepts that this is going to hurt even worse later. God he smells good, though.

Mike runs one giant paw up and down the back of her neck, his breath ruffling her curls as he speaks in muted, low tones.

“You’re not my friend - “

She immediately tries to escape his arms, but he just clamps his arms around her tighter and continues.

“Jesus, Gin. Let me finish this thought, and then you can run off if you want.”

She stops struggling but leaves her arms hanging limp at her sides.

“You’re my  **_best friend_ ** , Gin. You’re my family.  **_You’re_ ** what I can’t handle losing.”

She pulls back from his shoulder so she can look at him.

“They why  **_did you?!_ ** ”

He keeps one arm around her while the other hand comes up to brush a curl out of her face, as he smiles.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

She nearly chokes on her laughter.

“I’m not gonna argue with that. But that still doesn’t explain the cold shoulder in the bullpen, flirting with my agent, literally running away from me, then pretending like I was crazy for thinking you wouldn’t be talking to me if not for this series.”

Mike blows air out one side of his mouth before answering.

“Ok, listen. I can explain all that, but you gotta promise to hear me out and not bolt in the middle.”

She rolls her eyes, burrows her head back into his shoulder and answers, “Fine, I’ll hear you out.”

“First of all, remember how I said I’m an idiot?”

He feels more than hears her chuckle.

“Well that covers everything, but. I was worried you wouldn’t want to talk to me in the bullpen.”

Well, his worries weren’t unfounded. She didn’t want to talk to him so much as pummel his face at that moment.

“I know you called and texted, and I know I didn’t answer. And that’s all on me.”

He shifts his head so his cheek rests lightly against her curls.

“I thought you might not want anything to do with me after… everything. And I’m a moody bastard, so that came out - that came out the way it came out.”

Ginny lets her arms come back to life and wraps them around his torso. His hand resumes running up and down her neck. 

“And you gotta give me credit, given the number of balls you threw at my face - I wasn’t wrong.”

“You deserved every one of them,” she mumbles into his shoulder. 

He nods his head and continues.

“And fucking Davis. Fuck. He broke your heart, and I walked out on you, and I was supposed to be your friend, your teammate at the very least - “

He tightens the arm around her torso protectively.

“I saw him following you around like a puppy dog, after I fucked up so badly, and I thought - of course. Of course you go back to him. He’s young, got his whole career ahead of him. You used to look at him like he saved babies from burning buildings every day. Why wouldn’t you go back to him and leave my sorry ass like I left you? I’d sure as shit deserve it.”

She pulls back to look at him, one eyebrow raised, “You could’ve just talked to me instead of assuming I’d be dumb enough to take him back, Mike.”

He winks at her before clarifying, “Wasn’t about you, Rook. Remember? Self-loathing, narcissistic, bastard over here. It was about me.”

She rolls her eyes and cocks her head to one side, “What was that with Amelia, then? Looked like you were ready to book her a ticket for the full Mike Lawson experience.”

“If you’d gone home with Davis, I probably would have. And it would’ve been one more example of my extreme talent for ruining anything good in my life.”

Ginny’s eyes are wary.

“So why were you running out, then? I was avoiding him. In fact, I was looking for  **_you_ ** to help me avoid him, but you were too busy flirting to notice.”

Mike works his jaw for a second before replying, “I couldn’t watch it happen. He was circling you like a shark, and I knew he’d corner you eventually. So I figured better to drown my sorrows in a bar than watch that happen. You know, keep my self-destruction out of your circle. That’s the least I could do.”

He releases her and takes a step back, at which Ginny lets out an involuntary whimper. A fleeting smile crosses Mike’s beard before he speaks.

“Fuck, Gin. I don’t even know why you followed me out. Honestly, I don’t. I gave you every reason not to. I’m damn glad you did - “

When she looks at him, she doesn’t see Smug!Mike. She sees regret and the faintest trace of hope. She sees Ginnys!Mike, though she doesn’t know that yet.

“But I sure don’t know why.”

She looks him dead in the eye and answers, so softly.

“I thought you needed a friend, Mike. I thought we were friends.”

Mike’s eyes make the trip between her eyes and her mouth, and Ginny realizes the only space between them has shrunk, their clothes now the only thing separating them.

“And that’s all?”

It feels like the whole world is frozen. Nothing and no one is moving, but somehow the distance between their faces is collapsing like a dying star. His moustache brushes her nose, and his minty breath skates across her lips.

The ocean breeze drags one unruly curl across his forehead, and the fruity scent of her lip gloss assaults him. She can feel every inch of his torso against hers, warm and solid and comforting. 

The moment drags on forever, as if the tension has warped the very fabric of space-time. But Mike starts the clock again by leaning ever so slightly closer and - 

Ginny beats him to it, surprises him by closing the distance, slanting her lips over his, reveling in being so physically connected to him. And he’s so stunned by it that it takes him a beat to kiss her back. Which is how, just as fast it started, it’s over. 

She whips her head back, runs a thumb across her still-glossed mouth, then blurts, “Shit. I’m sorry - “

She takes a single step backward, locks eyes with him for the briefest moment, then trains her eyes on the ground.

“ - I know you’re just messed up about Rachel. I shouldn’t - “

Ginny raises her eyes, swimming in guilt, back to his face. She’s too busy beating herself up to see the fire in his eyes as they dart back and forth across her moonlit face.

“I should go.”


	2. Collisions and Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last chapter, although I have some tangents bumping around in my brain that may turn into a continuation at a later date. In the meantime, I give you Bawson!

Mike surges forward, grabs her hand and pulls her back so forcefully that she slams into him. He brings one hand up to her cheek and smiles his most brilliant smile as he counters, “I don’t give a shit about Rachel, Gin.”

And then his mouth is crashing into hers, and it’s every bit as great as she remembers from the bullpen. 

Except there’s no audience here, so she just lets herself feel it all: his lips, insistently parting her own to deepen the kiss, the pleasant tickle of his beard against her cheek, the sparks radiating out from the spot where his hand presses the small of her back into his warm body. 

She recognizes that familiar gravity again, the want. It blossoms low in her belly and reaches out to her fingertips, inspiring every cell in her body to demand more. **_More, more, more, MORE_ **.

His arms tighten around her waist and his lips blaze a trail from her dimple all the way down her neck. Ginny lets out a quiet hum of pleasure even as she finds herself frustrated by the confines of her slinky gown. She’d have wrapped her legs around him by now if this stupid dress weren’t in the way. 

Mike drags his lips lightly back up the smooth skin of her neck, then presses a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. Their foreheads pressed together, he exhales his words, “God, I’m glad you chased me down.”

If anyone were listening, they’d hear the dull roar of ocean waves and the ragged breathing of two world class athletes. 

Mike brushes a curl out of her face and asks, “You want to continue this conversation somewhere warmer?” Her eyes twinkle as a life-altering smile illuminates her face.

“Sure thing, old man. Wouldn’t want your brittle bones to freeze and snap in two.” 

Ginny follows the jab immediately with a wink that exposes that impossibly perfect dimple, which he immediately kisses. 

“Alright, alright. I walked into that one.”

He can’t be anything but smitten though, despite the smug, shitty grin on her face. Mike holds one hand to the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her forehead. (What? He had to!)

He grabs her hand as they both try to walk in opposite directions.

“Uh, beach exit’s this way. ‘D you get that early onset Alzheimer’s or something?”

“Ha ha, Rook. Yes, the stairs we came down are back that way, but my house is **_this_ ** way.”

Ginny lets him pull her back in the direction of his house as she chides, “Oh - so you took me to the beach **_at your place.”_ **

She laughs, but it’s not a normal Ginny laugh. Mike hears anxiety, maybe doubt, too. He’s not exactly sure why. He squeezes her hand lightly as he banters back. 

“I’ll have you know this is the best beach in San Diego, which is **_why_ ** I bought a house with a slice of it.”

He throws a sideways glance at Ginny and finds her nervously chewing her cheek. 

“Mmmm… that right, hotshot? ‘S that how you get all the groupies back here - promise ‘em a gorgeous view with a side of Mike Lawson?”

(Oh.)

He takes a bounding step in front of her to halt their march. He drops her hand in favor of bracketing her beautiful face with his hands. His gaze darts back and forth, finding a well of uncertainty in her warm brown eyes. 

“Gin, this isn’t a move. I’m ashamed to even say you’re not a groupie, because you and them shouldn’t ever be in the same sentence, alright?”

She looks down, fixing her gaze on his collarbone rather than his face. 

“You did say that you would have cheated with me. That you would have slept with me in a moment of weakness… if things had been conducive - ”

Mike runs a thumb over her velvety cheekbone as he tips her head back up to meet his gaze. 

“Nuh uh, Gin, no. I mean, yes - do I want to rock your world? Yes. Unequivocally. Have you seen you? But are you some one-night-stand? A passing amusement? My way station in whatever port you happened to be stationed?”

He pauses, and she feels like she’ll throw up if he doesn’t say what she hopes he says. 

“Never, Gin. You’re my best friend. **_You. Are_ **my family.”

Mike takes her hand, flips it palm up, and presses a soft kiss there. He does the same with her other hand, sending a riot of emotions through her entire being. 

“I meant what I said in the bullpen. I **_never_ ** want you out of my system.”

She responds with a megawatt smile that forces a single tear down her cheek. Mike bends down and presses a soft kiss into the tear’s track. She closes her eyes, and he briefly glimpses her long lashes as he presses an identical kiss to her other cheek.

“Come on, Rook. Let’s get you inside so you don’t freeze to death. I can’t be responsible for the first ever female MLB player turning into an icicle.” 

“Not in the MLB yet.”

“Yet.” His confidence thrills her.

Mike grabs her hand and leads her to a hidden set of gated stairs in the side of the cliff. He presses a finger to the doorknob, which lights up and clicks, before he opens the door and ushers her through.

“If you’re just staring at my ass the whole way up these stairs, I’ll know.”

“Gin, I’m staring at your perfect pear-shaped ass the whole way up these stairs. I’ve earned it.”

Ginny throws her head back, letting out peals of horsey laughter, and Mike thinks he’ll never get tired of that sound.

When they finally get to the house, Ginny really is freezing, having suffered through three whole minutes without the heat of Mike’s big body shielding her from the cold. 

She steps through the door first and is mid-way into forming a snarky comment about the still-packed boxes and the abundance of glass when she finds herself - suddenly - being very thoroughly kissed. Mike’s hands are on her face, his lips are on her mouth, and he is walking her slowly, carefully, backward.

Mike’s hand comes up behind her head as he crowds her into a wall. The other hand trails down her arm, finding its way to her waist. She is trapped between 180 pounds of Mike Lawson and the wall, and she loves it. 

Every part of her body feels like a live wire. And it’s like Mike’s hands, his heat, his beard are electrifying every one of them. It’s heady, all-consuming and wholly overwhelming. 

Ginny’s hands are carding through his hair, and one leg (the only one capable of escaping the slit in her dress) wraps around his waist. Which is convenient, because Mike has smashed his distinctly hard parts up against her soft parts, and it feels - **he** feels like coming home. 

Just before things reach a fever pitch (hah, get it?), Mike deliberately slows down. The heavy hand on her waist becomes a light caress. The hand behind her head moves to her cheek. And Mike’s lips slant more softly against her own. 

But Ginny leaves her leg right where she wants it - around his waist. And she lets out a little whine of displeasure, which makes Mike laugh. He rests his forehead against hers, and speaks.

“Come on - let’s get you warmed up.”

She did want to be warm, but she thought they were already on the way to solving that problem.

“Is that not what we were already doing?”

Mike smiles as he chuckles quietly, and Ginny thrills at having a front row seat for both. 

“Clothes. Warm clothes, Gin. I promise we’ll finish what we started. But this weekend has been a lot already. 30 minutes ago you thought I was just confused about Rachel, right?”

Ginny buries her face in his shoulder, wraps her arms around him, and nods her head yes.

Mike pulls her away from the wall, wraps his arms around her, then kisses the top of Ginny’s head. If anyone had told her a year ago that Mike Lawson was capable of such gentleness, she might have thought they were crazy. But she couldn’t deny how wildly attractive she found this side of him, even if it was a surprise.

“Right. Gin, I don’t ever want to see that look on your face again, and I damn sure don’t want to be the one to put it there. And you have a code that exists for a lot of really good reasons, and you would be breaking it. For me.”

He pulls away, and levels her with a dark, steady gaze.

“After everything Davis put you through, I don’t want you wondering - at any point - if this is a good idea. And if you ever think it’s not, I’ll understand. I hope that day never comes, but I’ll understand if it does. In the meantime, we can take our time, yeah? You with me?”

Ginny drops her leg, raises up on her tiptoes and kisses him enthusiastically. She lightly traces the inside of his upper lip with the very tip of her tongue, then parts her lips to deepen the kiss. When they come up for air, they’re both panting, and Mike has stars in his eyes. 

Ginny flippantly responds, “I’m with you, captain.”

-*-

After getting Ginny a snack (obviously), they finally make their way upstairs where she requests “something hella soft” to sleep in. 

Mike hands her one of his oldest t-shirts. Ginny starts to reach for her zipper, but Mike beats her to it. And then he can’t help himself as the unfurling garment reveals miles of gorgeous skin. He presses soft, unhurried kisses between her shoulder blades, on her spine, where shoulders meet neck.

He wants to put his mouth on every inch of her, but he stops himself when he gets the zipper all the way down. Ginny, true to herself, whines loudly when he stops.

“I agree with your reasoning, but that won’t stop me from complaining about it the whole time.”

Still frustrated, Ginny decides to put on a show. Rather than take the modest route and put the shirt on over the dress before removing it, Ginny lets the whole dress crash to the ground. 

She’s wearing a matching bra and panty set in lacy Padres blue, and she can hear Mike’s sharp intake of breath when he sees her. Ginny deftly reaches back to unhook the clasp on her bra, letting it fall into a heap with the dress. 

She can’t see it, but Mike’s eyes follow the bra all the way to the ground. Ginny then manages to get the t-shirt on without flashing him, which he considers to be some form of witchcraft. 

She turns to face Mike as she questions, “Do you have an extra toothbrush laying around somewhere? Is there a groupie bathroom down the hall with a stash I can exploit?”

Mike is sitting on the edge of his California king in nothing but boxers, looking at her like she’s dinner, and she loves it. Mission accomplished. 

But he gets up immediately, and it takes a concerted effort for her not to run her hands all over his naked back. He retrieves a brand new toothbrush from the bottom drawer (which is full of brand new toothbrushes) (they’re going to talk about **_that_ ** later). 

They brush their teeth in companionable silence, though Evelyn would accuse them of making heart eyes at each other the whole time. Ginny finishes first, on purpose and drops her toothbrush in the cup where he keeps his, then moves behind Mike.

Ginny runs her hands from his waist all the way up his torso, then she trails kisses up his spine, not caring that he’s hunched over the sink rinsing his mouth out. After putting his toothbrush up, Mike turns around to face her - which she finds terrible and great. Terrible because she can no longer cover his back in kisses. Great because she can cover his face in kisses now.

Ginny giggles as he picks her up and deposits her (sort of) roughly on the counter. He levels a big dopey grin at her, and her stomach flip flops before dissolving into butterflies. 

He brushes a curl away from her face as he crowds into the meager space between her legs. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you here, just like this?”

She pops an impetuous kiss right on his lips before leaning back onto the counter, Hollywood smile on full display.

“You imagined me in your bathroom? Here? On the counter?”

He nods his head slowly, but the dopey grin remains.

“You want the truth, Gin?”

She nods her head.

“Two things then. 1)I bought a ticket to San Antonio the day before they announced you for this series. And 2) I’ve imagined you **_everywhere_ ** in my life.”

Well, fuck.

Ginny basically mauls him. Her mouth collides with his, her legs wrap around his hips. And Mike drags her into himself until their torsos are glued together from waist to collarbone. There’s nothing but the thin fabric of her boy shorts and his boxers separating them. She doesn’t even realize her hips are rocking until Mike’s strong hands move to hold her still. 

They separate, ragged breathing echoing through the giant bathroom. Mike raises a hand to her face, brushing back another stray curl and says, “I’m never going to be able to take it slow if you keep doing stuff like that, Gin.”

Her lips are swollen, and her face is a little pink from his beard. 

“Well I’m never going to be able to take it slow if you keep **_saying_ ** stuff like that. Mike.” 

Mike runs his hands down her arms and presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Point taken. I stop talking, you stop flaunting, and we go to **sleep**. Deal?”

Ginny makes no effort at all to conceal her pout, but she follows him back into the bedroom dutifully. As soon as Mike pulls back the covers, Ginny throws herself into the bed, attempting to take up the whole thing.

“Rookie. You gotta pick a side. I’m a generous man, but I’m too old to sleep on the floor.”

“It’s way less funny when you’re the one making the old jokes - that’s my thing,” Ginny complains as she slowly rolls over to the side furthest from the door, then flops back down on the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Mike sees something flicker across her face as he pulls the covers back up and climbs in the other side. 

“These sheets are clean, right? Not yesterday’s groupie sheets?”

He doesn’t begrudge her the question. He definitely had a reputation before he married Rachel, and Ginny did see him almost cheat with a beat reporter. She doesn’t know what he’s been doing since San Antonio.

He reaches over her to turn the light off as he answers.

“Gin, you’re the only woman who’s seen this house besides my realtor and my housekeeper.”

He lays on his side next to her, head propped in one hand, with the other tracing lazy lines up and down her arm. It’s dark, but he can see her wide brown eyes unwaveringly following his every word.

“Now listen, I know you’ve seen me pretty near my worst. And I did have a reputation back when you had my poster up on your wall.”

Ginny punches him playfully but doesn’t interrupt.

“But when I panic-bought this house and walked around all these empty rooms, there was only one person I wanted to see in them.”

Ginny giggles and blurts out, “Leonardo DiCaprio?”

“Ok, there were only **two** people I wanted to see in these rooms.”

She can feel his shitty grin even though she can’t see it very well. She reaches a hand up to his face and uses it to pull him down into a kiss. It’s deep and unhurried, and she doesn’t want it to stop, but it does. Because “let’s take it sloooooow.”

Instead of flopping down in a huff of frustration, Ginny decides to over-communicate. People are always saying that communication is the secret to a good relationship, right?

She rolls onto her side, facing him, pressing the entire length of her body into his. She hitches one long leg up and over his hips. Then she draws right up to his ear, and almost whispers. Her voice sounds like velvet feels, to Mike anyway.

“I love that you want to take care of me, and I love that you don’t want to hurt me. But I hate not having your hands on every inch of my body. I hate not having my hands and my mouth on every inch of yours. I will go along with taking it slow, because you’re right - don’t get all cocky about it either - it is the right choice. It’s the safe choice in a very unsafe situation. But while we’re taking it slow, you should know that I want **every** part of you.”

She covers his mouth with a very brief kiss, then turns and curls into his side as little spoon, leaving him absolutely speechless. When he doesn’t seem to respond, she takes his top arm and drapes it over her body, lacing her fingers into his. 

But Mike has a better idea. He frees his top arm from her hand (momentarily) then seeks out the hem of her t-shirt. He snakes his hand up under the shirt, briefly toying with the lacy edge of her boy shorts before settling on the impossibly soft stretch of skin right below her belly button.

Every movement of his hand sends sparks flying through Ginny’s entire body. 

Mike presses into her tighter before whispering in her ear, “Ginny Baker, you are the most beautiful, infuriating, captivating, hard-working person I have ever met. And I cannot wait until I can use my hands, mouth… “

His hips perform a slow, deliberate buck, colliding gently (but satisfyingly) with her spectacular ass.

“... and every part of me to make sure you believe that.”

Ginny giggles happily, twines her fingers through his, and worms her way even deeper into his heart. 

Just before they drift off to sleep, Mike squeezes the hand on her stomach lightly and whispers, “Hey Gin, how was your first trip to the beach?”

She yawns as she replies, “Mmmm… a little chilly and dark, but I met this adorable sasquatch, and I think he wants to date me. It’s definitely unconventional, but that’s pretty much perfect for me. Eight of ten stars - would recommend.”

Mike chuckles, then presses a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, and they both drift off to sleep, thinking about the exact same thing: how lucky they are to fall asleep with their favorite person in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all! All questions, comments, suggestions, and personal attacks are welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Work title comes from the All Time Low song, because the lyrics fit this universe so well:
> 
> So here we go again  
> Wishin' we could start again
> 
> Wendy run away with me  
> I know I sound crazy  
> Don't you see what you do to me?  
> I want to be your lost boy  
> Your last chance, a better reality
> 
> Wendy we can get away  
> I promise if you're with me, say the word and we'll find a way  
> I can be your lost boy, your last chance  
> Your "everything better" plan  
> Oh, somewhere in Neverland


End file.
